


The Maker

by Anonymous



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Castiel Takes Care Of The Winchesters, Castiel To The Rescue, Exhausted Castiel (Supernatural), Family Feels, Hurt Castiel (Supernatural), Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt Sam Winchester, Intended sexual assault (Cas stops it), M/M, Non Consensual touching, Non-Consensual Touching, Protective Castiel (Supernatural), The Winchesters Take Care of Castiel, Transformed Dean Winchester, Transformed Sam Winchester, Worried Castiel (Supernatural), non consensual nudity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-21
Updated: 2019-06-21
Packaged: 2020-05-16 04:01:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19310218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Dean and Sam are looking for who or what is responsible for some disappearances in a small town.They find a creepy old house with room after room filled with handmade dolls.But it’s not until they themselves end up the same way that they realise what happened to those missing people.Fortunately, they have someone who will come for them.





	The Maker

**Author's Note:**

> Skip to the end notes first for clarification on the non-con tag.

“This place is creepy as fuck,” Dean said. He’d already seen enough of the old house to give himself nightmare material for the next ten years, but they weren’t done yet.

Somewhere in here was the person, or object, they suspected of being responsible for several disappearances, but that meant searching the rest of the rooms, and Dean had to hope they weren’t like this one.

Sam shone his torch over the shelves that lined each of the walls, the rag dolls propped up staring back at him.

“Guess he’s a collector,” he said, but Dean could see Sam wasn’t any less freaked out than he was himself.

“He’s something,” he muttered. “Let’s get this over with.”

Their torches went out in that same instant, and Dean heard something heavy fall.

“Sam?”

He spun around, but the darkness was solid around him, and then he felt something cold brushing his skin before all the strength left his body and he joined his brother on the floor.

++

Sam couldn’t move. He was dangling, hanging over the old man’s arm, eyes fixed on the floor, as he and Dean were carted down the hall.

“Lucky to have guests,” the old man said. “So lucky. No one comes out here, except sometimes those kids from town, just to torment me. I can’t take them, of course; that would bring the police down on me. They’d be missed.

“But somehow, I don’t think anyone will be coming for you.”

 _Wrong_ , Sam wanted to scream at him, but he had no voice, no control, and so there was nothing he could do as he and Dean were set down carefully on a table and a table lamp was angled to shine down on them.

It should have hurt, that direct brightness, but it didn’t.

Sam couldn’t have turned his head away even if it did; he couldn’t even look over to check if Dean was okay.

“Now. Let’s see what we have here, eh?”

The old man’s hands shook but that didn’t stop him removing Sam’s coat and shirt, then his pants until Sam was bare before him.

“Everything where it should be,” he said, nodding. “Good, good. It’s not the same as when I used to do this the old fashioned way, with my hands….”

He rubbed his fingers stiffly together and then held them under the warming light of the table lamp. 

It was an old effect, the fingers little more than giant dark blocks above him, but Sam got an idea of gnarled knuckles and places where the fingers were swollen.

“But at least I found a way I could still work. Just with flesh instead of fabric and stuffing. And now I have two new friends to join our family.”

He his hands moved out of Sam’s sight then, and he listened to the rustle of material before the man was staring down, satisfied.

Then he stroked his finger down Sam’s body.

“Of course, one of the best things is that now my dolls are _completely_ anatomically correct. More accurate than I could ever have done, before.”

He turned Sam over, and then his hands moved away, Sam heard the sound of something else being moved, but he was face down, uncomfortable, but just as unable to move as before.

“It means I get to enjoy my work in a whole new way,” the old man said, and Sam wanted to scream.

Instead, he prayed.

++

Being in Cas’s pocket was not comfortable.

Dean didn’t have much choice, though. Cas had to put him, and Sam, somewhere while he checked to see if any of the old man’s other ‘creations’ still had life in them, or had finally succumbed to being transformed into cloth and toy filling.

The thought of slowing dying of thirst and starvation, some kind of twisted side effect of the old man’s spell, churned Dean up inside.

But at least Cas had found them before it came to that, and before the sadistic piece of shit had a chance to bad touch them or worse.

All the same, he’d come close enough, and Dean wished he could reach out for his little brother. Sam was right next to him, but that wasn’t enough. 

Dean wanted to check him over, make sure he was alright, and yet he couldn’t even speak.

And he was also starting to get thirsty.

Which was a problem, because they couldn’t exactly drink, or eat, like this, so Dean hoped Cas found the counterspell or had some idea how he was going to turn them back.

It was going to be a very short rescue, if not.

++

Cas started up the car, and pulled away from the house. The motel they had been staying at was only half an hour away, but even so the urge to speed was hard to resist.

Even if the brothers couldn’t speak, Cas could hear their prayers, and he knew they were struggling with their current predicament: mentally, emotionally, and physically.

He took a stop sign as an opportunity to reach into his pocket and send a tingle of Grace through the brothers’ bodies.

That would sustain them for a while, but it had to be a short term solution.

The problem was that Cas didn’t have any other kind; he’d searched every inch of the old man’s house, and only found room after room of dolls, and a dusty workstation which was no doubt neglected since the dollmaker had mostly lost the use of his hands.

Sometimes, Cas thought, humans (as much as he loved them) scared him more than the worst monster or demon out there.

 _Cas_?

Sam.

“It’ll be alright,” he said, and patted his pocket lightly before turning into the motel’s parking lot.

++

Sam could see this was getting to Cas.

The angel had propped them up against a pillow on one of the beds, and was trying another of the spells Rowena had talked him through.

But none of them had worked, and the only thing they seemed to be accomplishing was draining Cas.

He was on his knees now, forearms braced on the mattress, as if he was praying.

Sam knew better. There was only one person associated with Heaven worth praying to these days, and he was currently only a few feet away.

“None of them are working,” Cas said, glaring at the phone lying next to him.

“We’ll find one, sweetie,” Rowena said. “But it’d be easier if I had the spell that was used on them, now, wouldn’t it?”

Cas rolled his eyes. He’d already explained to the witch that whatever magic the old man had used, it’d been done while the Winchesters were unconscious so they couldn’t even tell Cas the wording through prayer.

So Rowena had been rhyming off anti-curse spells, spells of transformation, spells to lift a hex, and each once Cas had been using his Grace to bolster, which accounted for him being so sapped just now.

Even if he couldn’t communicate with his brother like this, Sam could almost feel the rage from Dean.

He wanted to be human again, but he also wanted Cas to stop with using his very essence to try and fix them.

And, Sam didn’t know about Dean, but he was hungry.

He didn’t let Cas know, though; the angel didn’t seem to have enough Grace for himself right then, never mind to ease Sam’s appetite.

“It might just take some time,” Rowena said, as if she knew how hard this was on all three of them. “If those boys were unconscious, we don’t know how long the change took. It might be as long, or longer, in the other direction.”

She left Cas with another few spells, but insisted he wait until morning to try them, and then hung up.

Cas got unsteadily to his feet, and Sam would have tensed if he’d been able. 

The angel was swaying, and Sam knew the look of someone about to pass about.

But there was absolutely nothing he could do about it, except pray to Cas to try and get onto the bed.

Cas stared at them, and he seemed to lose about ten layers of colour in that one moment.

“It’ll be…”. His words trailed off and then he dropped like a rock, hitting the floor hard.

Sam yelled his name, but there was nothing in response.

He couldn’t even see Cas from where they sat, and after fifteen minutes he had to accept Cas was out for the count.

Sam could hear him breathing, though, so at least they knew he was alive.

All the same, that night was one of the longest in Sam’s life.

++

Cas awoke to the feeling of a blanket being lowered carefully over him, and he jerked upright in a panic.

Dean was staring sheepishly down at him. “Sorry, sorry, it’s just…. Go back to sleep, Cas.”

“Dean! Sam?”

Sam was standing just behind his brother, and they were both human again, made of flesh, and they had never been a more welcome sight for Cas’s eyes.

“Guess Rowena was right,” Sam said. “It just took a little time. We changed back about ten minutes ago.”

Cas ignored Dean’s huff of disapproval and clambered out of the bed. He was about as steady as a ship in a storm, but he managed to pull them both into his arms.

It ended up with them mostly keeping him on his feet, but he didn’t care. They were alright.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s okay,” Dean said, and he patted Cas’s back even as Sam’s hand gently cupped the back of his head.

“You turned us back,” Sam reassured him, but Cas found it near impossible to let them go.

He’d been so afraid that they’d die like the old man’s other victims, despite his determination to keep them alive.

Or that being trapped in those forms, unable to communicate with each other, unable to move, to speak, would have driven them insane.

But they were okay.

He felt very light headed, suddenly, his legs buckling, and the brothers gently lowered him back down onto the bed.

“You are going to stay there until we get back,” Dean ordered.

Cas tried to sit up again, drawing an annoyed sound from the older brother, who immediately pushed him back down.

“Where are you going?”

“Your truck,” Sam said. “You left it at the house. We’re going to get it and then the three of us better get out of here.”

“Just in case somebody wonders by that house and finds that guy,” Dean said. “And I think you deserve your own bed tonight, Cas.”

Cas wouldn’t complain. Even if he generally didn’t sleep - aside from when he had depleted his reserves of Grace to such low levels that it was unavoidable - he’d learned the value of having your own room, your own space, and your own memory foam mattress to rest on.

Especially with your family close by.

“Be careful,” he murmured, but his eyes were heavy, and his body felt loose, relaxed.

His humans were okay.

Someone ran their fingers through his hair, and he smiled.

“We will. Get some sleep, angel. We’ll be back before you know it.”

Cas didn’t even hear them close the door.

**Author's Note:**

> I included the tag as, though the old man touches Sam’s suggestively once, it goes no further (the implied threat is there, but Cas arrives in time to prevent anything more than that).


End file.
